And now you return, thrice noble Odysseus:
How, pray tell, do your people greet you?
They greet with song and dance, with festivity and song.
They greet with legends made and newer poems sung.
...
God I thought you were trying to get to me so I got off the phone.
God come on and talk to me if you’ve got something to say.
God hurry up—you’ve got eternity but I’ve only got a few million lousy minutes.
God I’ve got other people to talk to.
...
The mirror of my soul
Reflects a thousand spirits.
I stand in the void,
Grasping to find
...
California reveries of dreams assail me
As waves of sleep drift from Lethe’s misty shore
Memories to keep past such fateful banks
And a remembrance of things past, things
...
I keep my little God in a box of space.
He talks to me in my sleep,
and He whispers the answers
to a thousand unasked questions.
...
You attack my poetry—
It lacks meter,
You say,
And neglects
...
You ask me how
I write a poem;
How I change
Leaves to snowflakes
...